


Another Stranger

by Semianonymity



Category: Toriko (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Sexual Harassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 13:31:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4921420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semianonymity/pseuds/Semianonymity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: 'i'm pretending to be ur bf bc u looked VERY uncomfortable with that person at the bar hitting on u' for Komatsu/Zebra, taken from a meme, prompted by owlphallacies.</p>
<p>Komatsu gets some unwanted attention, and Zebra intervenes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Stranger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [owlphallacies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlphallacies/gifts).



Half an hour earlier, Komatsu had stopped even _trying_ for basic politeness. The guy wouldn’t back off—he’d taken one-word answers to his questions as an opportunity to monologue, he’d followed Komatsu when he’d moved to a different part of the bar, and he was starting to get handsy—leaning in too close, a companionable hand on Komatsu’s knee. Komatsu was used to his height, but he was more and more aware that it was making him a _target_ for this man. He wasn’t sure he wanted to leave. Because at least he had the crowd to keep him safe at the bar, and he had to walk two short blocks back home, dark and deserted.

“I’m not interested,” Komatsu repeated, again, teeth bared in an expression that was nothing at all like a smile. “Please just _go away_ –”

A hand landed heavily on his shoulder, pushing him down for a moment before suddenly letting up as Komatsu jumped and squeaked, already on edge and—the man standing behind him was _huge_ , heavily scarred, even more heavily muscled, and Komatsu didn’t even come up to his neck even perched on his stool.

He was glaring at Komatsu’s harasser, murderous enough to make Komatsu’s pulse ratchet up a little bit more, but his heavy-browed gaze transferred to Komatsu, and he wasn't—angry? Maybe? But he was trying to communicate _something_ with his eyes, and—

“No need to get violent,” Komatsu managed to say, trying to keep his night out from turning into a fight, he was tired, exhausted, he’d needed to fire someone today and he’d had to get out of the restaurant, he’d just been restless and uneasy in his apartment, and this had all been too much trouble.

“Sorry I’m late, peach,” the stranger said, the words a little awkward in his mouth—scarred all along one side, stitched back together?! And his voice was a low angry rumble, not at all suited to endearments. Komatsu just barely managed to keep from boggling.

“No—problem, kitten?” Komatsu managed to say, not turning it into too much of a question, hoping he was reading the situation right—hoping he wasn’t getting himself into even more trouble, because he had a feeling that the man behind him could (and would) fight the whole bar, if necessary, and win—if he thought he had as much entitlement to Komatsu as the other guy, the crowd might not even help.  
The hand on his shoulder gently guided him around and—into a hug, Komatsu thought with relief, putting his arms around what he could reach of the other man—who leaned down to whisper into Komatsu’s ear, the puff of his breath intimate enough to make Komatsu shiver.

“Sorry,” the man said, audibly gruff and awkward even at barely more than a whisper. “He looked like he was bothering you. I could just kill him,” he added.

“It’s fine,” Komatsu said, pulling away with deep relief, smile thrilled, almost joyful, and when the other guy smiled back, looking surprised—and then more surprised, like he hadn’t been expecting the smile—he twisted their hands together, leaning into his arm. The huge stranger’s slight discomfort, concern, how he _listened_ to Komatsu—it helped settle his nerves. He felt safe.

“Hey, baby, this your boyfriend? Nah, can’t be, no way a little thing like you could take his dick—”

Komatsu stared, not sure how to even respond to that, for his own sake, for the sake of the man who’d come to his rescue—

The giant man just laughed, roughly amused. “That’s why my little peach tops,” he said, smirking—a little too wide—but Komatsu thought that the tops of his ears were blushing red. Komatsu himself was distinctly rosy.

“We don’t have _any_ problems,” Komatsu added, blushing hard himself—he wasn’t innocent so much as a private person—but he wanted to put on a united front. “Kitten, you know you don’t have to listen to him?”

“I think he should be going,” ‘Kitten’ said, and while Komatsu’s attempts at a smile had failed, earlier, he clearly wasn’t even trying—just baring his teeth in an obvious threat.

“C'mon,” the guy said, grabbing for Komatsu’s arm, Komatsu flinching back (into a wall of muscle, at least keeping him from falling off the barstool), and before Komatsu even registered him moving, the giant man had his harasser’s wrist caught in one giant hand.

“Touch him and I _rip your arm off_ ,” he said, and—there was something like a real smile, and vicious pleasure in his expression. “I fucking hate cocky bastards like you—but your real mistake was harassing my boyfriend.”

The guy left fast, and Komatsu relaxed with a sigh of deep relief, slumping into the embrace he was still sharing, before realizing that he was still cuddling with what amounted to a complete stranger, straightening with a quiet yelp.

“Oh! I’m sorry, um—I’m Komatsu?”

“Zebra,” he said, backing off a bit, looking at his hands awkwardly, then up over Komatsu’s head. “Fucker—he’s still here. I can still kill him. Let you get out before I start the fight.”

“I—no, really, it’s fine. I’ll file a report later, and I know the owner of the bar, he’ll make sure he’s not allowed in again—but a fight, that would bring down the reputation, increase costs, damage. It’s fine.”

“I’m staying,” the man declared, like it was a threat.

“Thank you! You don’t have to, um—Zebra,” Komatsu said, smiling up at him a little shyly, now that the giddy relief had calmed down.

“Not 'kitten’?” Zebra drawled, and Komatsu laughed, cheerful, slowly forgetting about his probable audience.

“Well, if you’re not going to call me your peach! Are you?”

Zebra laughed, sliding a hand through his hair, leaving it a little rumpled—like his tie and collar, Komatsu realized, like it wasn’t quite normal clothes for him. It was an oddly charming detail. “I dunno—it’s got a nice ring to it.” He was _smirking_ again.

“No, no, call me Komatsu!” he said, pushing playfully against one huge shoulder—nothing that would move a normal person, let alone the small mountain he was talking to. (Flirting with?)

“Komatsu,” Zebra said obediently, before pausing, expression going solemn. Komatsu looked up in question. “–You’re really not afraid of me, are you?”

“No?” Komatsu said, even more confused now.

“You’re pretty goddamn brave,” Zebra said, leaning in and in, looming over him and— “You think you can get cocky with _me?_ ”  
Mouth a little dry, Komatsu straightened, held his ground. “Please give me some more space,” he said, quiet but clear, waiting and— Zebra backed off immediately, and when his expression came back into view, replacing the muscled torso that had filled Komatsu’s field of view, he looked angry. But not because of him, Komatsu thought. Angry with himself, maybe.

“Should I be?” Komatsu asked, and Zebra looked—startled. “I mean—should I be afraid of you?”  
Zebra looked more lost than startled now, and Komatsu found himself still talking. “Zebra, you helped me escape that— _predator_ , and when I asked you to back off, you did. I know it’s not a lot, but—you, you _seem_ nice.”  
Zebra snorted. “Nice?”  
“When you smile, and your ears went red when you—brought up our sex life—not that we have a sex life!” Komatsu blurted out, going bright red himself. “You didn’t assume that just because I’m short I, you know—and you apologized when you hugged me, right at the beginning—I don’t think I have anything to fear from you. Do I?”

“…I threatened to kill him,” Zebra said slowly. “You know that I meant it?”

Komatsu kept looking at him, even, curious, and—wanting. Zebra looked too young, underneath the scarring, to have so many shadows in his eyes, so much tension in his shoulders.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Zebra admitted. “You're—safe from me. Which doesn’t fucking mean you shouldn’t be afraid!”

His smile brilliant, Komatsu leaned forward to hug Zebra almost on instinct, and because of the half-remembered feel of his solid body, warm and safe against his own. When Zebra went stiff and still underneath him, he was ready to pull back, apologize no matter what, but then Zebra hugged him back.

“He’s not looking anymore,” Zebra said, arms moving—slowly, almost reluctantly—away. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Komatsu said, but he moved as well. “But I’m sorry, that was forward of me, I should have asked! It was rude—”

“Just shut up,” Zebra muttered, pulling him close again, and Komatsu curled his fingers into the fabric of his shirt, warm and safe. He wanted Zebra to know that, too—that Komatsu was safe with him, that Komatsu would do his best to take care of _him_ , too. He didn’t think Zebra had many people looking out for him, many people to offer him a kind word. Or a home cooked meal, Komatsu thought, suddenly.

“Zebra? I—I would really like to cook dinner for you! May I make you dinner? Or dessert—have you eaten? It’s late—” Komatsu asked in a rush, almost blurting it out.

“You don’t owe me a fucking _thing_. And I eat a lot.” Zebra didn’t pull away, but he sounded upset anyway.

“That’s okay,” Komatsu said, warmth blooming in the pit of his stomach. Because neither of those had been a refusal. “I’m a chef, and I’d like to. Come back to my place. Or, um—if you’d rather, if you’re not comfortable with that, I could open up my restaurant?”

Zebra stared at him, dumbstruck, and Komatsu was suddenly more nervous than he could remember being in a long, long time, but—

“Yeah,” Zebra said, and when he smiled like that, just like that, Komatsu thought, it was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, warm enough that he wanted to bask in it. “You… trust me? In your apartment?”

“Yes,” Komatsu said, not sure why it was true, but sure anyway. “I think I even have some peaches.”

Zebra laughed, looking embarrassed but relaxing, and Komatsu beamed at him as he started speaking, pleasure coloring his voice. “Shut up, I didn't—I couldn’t fucking thing of anything. And you came up with _kitten_.”

“You were all growly,” Komatsu said, unable to help himself, sliding off his stool and to the ground—he felt even shorter next to a standing Zebra, but he didn’t feel looked down on. It made all the difference in the world.

They left hand in hand.

-End-


End file.
